Parshat Ki Tetze
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Everyone who is familiar with the story of Ruth knows the Talmudic sentiment (Yevamot 69a, 77a and Ketuvot 7b) that a Moabite female is permitted to join the Jewish people. The Talmud has a classic word-game which helps clarify the mitzvah in Devarim 23:4-7, that an Ammonite and a Moabite may never join the Jewish people.
The Torah gives two reasons for the mitzvah: “Because they did not greet you with bread and water when you were on the way out of Egypt, and also because they hired Balaam son of Beor from Pethor in Aram Naharaim to curse you.” (23:5) (Compare this to Devarim 2:29)
It is understandable that the Moabites would be viewed negatively in that generation. But forever? The modern reader will certainly be troubled by what seems to be a racial sentiment in this law, that there is an inherent flaw in Moabite males that can never be undone, that there is no way Moabite men can ever overcome their natural feelings towards the Jewish people, no matter how society evolves and the world changes.
Could this really be the Torah’s message?
To call this a racial flaw is wrong, simply because Moabite women are welcome to join the Jewish people. But putting the Moabite men in such a category seems to fall under the rubric of a national “punishment” – irrespective of an individual’s behavior – that can last forever.
There is much more background to this story that is needed to help us understand the Torah’s message. Firstly, Ammon and Moav were children of Avraham’s nephew Lot. This made them, in Torah terms, brothers with the Israelite nation. They were untouchable and their land was untouchable. However, owing to the fact that Sichon King of Emori had conquered the lands of Ammon and Moav (Bamidbar 21:26), their original lands were no longer unavailable to the Israelites. When Sichon came out to attack (Bamidbar 21:23), he opened himself to losing all his lands, including those he had conquered himself.
See how Israel treated Edom (Bamidbar 20:14-21), Esav’s kin, offering to merely pass through their land while reminding them “We are your brothers, you know what we’ve been through,” we have no issues with you as we are merely going to retrieve our Promised Land. There is no reason to assume they would have treated Moav any differently (See Shoftim 11:18). And yet, Moav spends an entire Torah portion (Parshat Balak) trying to destroy the Israelite nation through necromancy and the curses of Bilaam.
The Midrash Tanaim raises the possibility that “when you come to a city to fight, you should first offer peace” includes reaching out in this fashion to the Ammon and Moav nations, but concludes that it does not include them. But then the Midrash goes on to recount an episode when a potential Ammonite convert came to the religious court during the Talmudic period. Rabban Gamliel told him he could not join the Jewish people, while Rabbi Shimon said he could. When Rabban Gamliel challenged Rabbi Shimon based on the verse in the Torah, Rabbi Yehoshua countered saying that Sennacherib had thrown the world into disarray replacing populations, and there was no longer any truly identifiable Ammonite or Moabite.
In simple terms, this would suggest that God had a plan for a certain amount of time, knowing that Sennacherib would come along one day and neutralize this law – along with the law of killing Amalekites, etc.
Another answer is one that I first read in a sermon of Rabbi Norman Lamm from the 1960s in which he decried judging the Torah’s laws and narrative based on modern sensibilities which tend to be become more liberal over time.
And yet, maybe there is something to the everlasting grudge. Ramban says, “Even though they are your family, and Avraham your father loved their father [Lot] like a brother, you cannot be brothers with them, because they abrogated the covenant of brotherhood, and destroyed it forever.” Certainly until Sennacherib, the national punishment against the male Moabite population would be carried forever. This is not about the individuals – it is a collective rule that no Moabite can become an Israelite.
In our modern world, we often look to sins of the past and say “we are not like those people any more. We have evolved. We have tolerance and patience now.” Think about the relationship between Jews and Christians for millennia, blacks and whites for centuries in the Americas, and all the politics which were attached to the Confederate Battle Flag in the aftermath of the tragic shooting in mid-June at the AME Church in South Carolina mid-June. Christians are often the biggest supporters of Israel, racism is not allowed in the US as an official policy, and long-time Southerners have had to express that the Confederate flag stands for honor and not racism, at the same time as it is being pulled off of flagpoles at public buildings. Society evolves. Thanks to Sennacherib, even the Moabite could join the Jewish people today.
And yet I know people who had a fallout and will never ever move past their fight. They will never forgive. They will never pick up the phone and make the call to move on in peace. There is a piece of human nature in this. But it is unhealthy for a society, and especially for a Jewish community, to see these kinds of attitudes in play.
Rosh Hashana is fast approaching. We need to find a way to put the hurt behind us, and foment peace in our own ranks. Only then will our Teshuvah (repentance) be complete.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Thursday, August 20, 2015
The Tree In Me
or The Connection Between Appointing Honest Judges and Not Planting Trees for Idolatry
Parshat Shoftim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
At the beginning of Parshat Behar, when the Torah describes the laws studied at Mt. Sinai, Rashi asks a question that is well-known by those who study Rashi’s commentary: What does the topic of Shmittah (resting the land on the seventh year) have to do with Sinai? This question is utilized in almost equivalent usage as “what does this have to do with the price of tea in China?”, meaning what do two unrelated topics mentioned near each other have to do with one another?
We can ask the same question at the beginning of our Parsha. We are first told that judges and officers need to be placed at the gates of cities, and that they should be upright and honest men who do not take bribes. Immediately after this, we are told, “Do not plan an asheirah or any tree near the altar of God.” (16:21) An asheirah is usually defined as a tree that is worshipped in some kind of idolatrous practice, but Rashbam says in this context it refers to any kind of tree, and Rashi adds that a building is also forbidden to be erected near the altar.
What does the asheirah tree have to do with appointing honest judges?
In Sanhedrin 7b, Resh Lakish describes anyone who appoints an unfit judge as being just as guilty as if he planted an asheirah tree. The Midrash Aggadah repeats this teaching without attribution. Some of the commentaries on this verse echo Resh Lakish, noting, for example, that the numerical value (gematria) of “asheirah” (506) is the same as “dayan she’eno hagun” (an unfit judge), which indicates that appointing an unfit judge is like planting an asheirah tree, because the judges sat near the mizbeach (Baal Haturim). Targum Yonatan removes the hints and says rather straightforwardly, “Just as you are not permitted to plant an asheirah next to the Mizbeach of God, so too you are not allowed to match a foolish man to dictate the law along with wise judges.”
The Alshikh makes the parallel a little more poetic, as he gives us an image which we can understand. Just as a planted tree grows and becomes more beautiful and impressive over time, even though the asheirah is either for idolatry or is simply planted in the wrong place, a bad and unfit judge starts off with small iniquities, and becomes increasingly corrupt as well as entrenched in his position over time. Similarly, Maimonides (laws of Sanhedrin 3:8) describes how easy it is to justify hiring a bad judge based on his social skills, his strength, nepotism, his knowledge of languages, etc. and not based on the proper criteria, such as his knowing the law. We similarly might admire a tree, not knowing whether it is a tree used for idolatry.
It is notable that the warning in the Torah for how a judge should not behave, as well as the warning in the Torah against planting an asheirah, sound the same. The word in question is spelled differently, but to the ear, it can be confused due to the similarity of sound: “Lo tateh” means do not bend judgment, “Lo titah” means do not plant.
The Kli Yakar notes (quoting a Midrash) that all of the warnings at the beginning of our parsha, were engraved in the steps leading up to King Solomon’s throne. Don’t bend, don’t show favor, don’t take bribes, don’t plant, don’t erect (a monument), and don’t offer (a blemished animal). The connection to Solomon was that all of these rules applied to whomever was serving as a judge.
Kli Yakar explains the many parallels between judges and the rules that follow it, about planting trees and erecting monuments. For example, a judge should not stand alone like a monument, but should be one of many “stones” in a Sanhedrin, just as there are many stones that make up a mizbeach. This makes it easier to be just, and to avoid bribes.
In 20:19 we are reminded that a person is, in some ways, compared to a tree. In one of the last mishnayot in Avot 3, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya teaches how a person whose deeds are greater than his wisdom is compared to a tree with very strong roots who can’t be toppled over by even the strongest of winds.
We have a challenge to take the tree metaphor and apply it to our lives in the best of ways. To make sure our roots are strong, that our foundation isn’t flawed, and that we are planting ourselves in the right places to allow for the best spiritual growth we can achieve.
The further we spread our branches and leaves, the harder it becomes to nourish the outer limits of our reach. But if we maintain the connection to our roots and to our source, we can continue to grow, stronger and taller, as the canopy we create becomes a source of nourishment, shade, comfort, and inspiration to ourselves, our families, and those we care about most.
Parshat Shoftim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
At the beginning of Parshat Behar, when the Torah describes the laws studied at Mt. Sinai, Rashi asks a question that is well-known by those who study Rashi’s commentary: What does the topic of Shmittah (resting the land on the seventh year) have to do with Sinai? This question is utilized in almost equivalent usage as “what does this have to do with the price of tea in China?”, meaning what do two unrelated topics mentioned near each other have to do with one another?
We can ask the same question at the beginning of our Parsha. We are first told that judges and officers need to be placed at the gates of cities, and that they should be upright and honest men who do not take bribes. Immediately after this, we are told, “Do not plan an asheirah or any tree near the altar of God.” (16:21) An asheirah is usually defined as a tree that is worshipped in some kind of idolatrous practice, but Rashbam says in this context it refers to any kind of tree, and Rashi adds that a building is also forbidden to be erected near the altar.
What does the asheirah tree have to do with appointing honest judges?
In Sanhedrin 7b, Resh Lakish describes anyone who appoints an unfit judge as being just as guilty as if he planted an asheirah tree. The Midrash Aggadah repeats this teaching without attribution. Some of the commentaries on this verse echo Resh Lakish, noting, for example, that the numerical value (gematria) of “asheirah” (506) is the same as “dayan she’eno hagun” (an unfit judge), which indicates that appointing an unfit judge is like planting an asheirah tree, because the judges sat near the mizbeach (Baal Haturim). Targum Yonatan removes the hints and says rather straightforwardly, “Just as you are not permitted to plant an asheirah next to the Mizbeach of God, so too you are not allowed to match a foolish man to dictate the law along with wise judges.”
The Alshikh makes the parallel a little more poetic, as he gives us an image which we can understand. Just as a planted tree grows and becomes more beautiful and impressive over time, even though the asheirah is either for idolatry or is simply planted in the wrong place, a bad and unfit judge starts off with small iniquities, and becomes increasingly corrupt as well as entrenched in his position over time. Similarly, Maimonides (laws of Sanhedrin 3:8) describes how easy it is to justify hiring a bad judge based on his social skills, his strength, nepotism, his knowledge of languages, etc. and not based on the proper criteria, such as his knowing the law. We similarly might admire a tree, not knowing whether it is a tree used for idolatry.
It is notable that the warning in the Torah for how a judge should not behave, as well as the warning in the Torah against planting an asheirah, sound the same. The word in question is spelled differently, but to the ear, it can be confused due to the similarity of sound: “Lo tateh” means do not bend judgment, “Lo titah” means do not plant.
The Kli Yakar notes (quoting a Midrash) that all of the warnings at the beginning of our parsha, were engraved in the steps leading up to King Solomon’s throne. Don’t bend, don’t show favor, don’t take bribes, don’t plant, don’t erect (a monument), and don’t offer (a blemished animal). The connection to Solomon was that all of these rules applied to whomever was serving as a judge.
Kli Yakar explains the many parallels between judges and the rules that follow it, about planting trees and erecting monuments. For example, a judge should not stand alone like a monument, but should be one of many “stones” in a Sanhedrin, just as there are many stones that make up a mizbeach. This makes it easier to be just, and to avoid bribes.
In 20:19 we are reminded that a person is, in some ways, compared to a tree. In one of the last mishnayot in Avot 3, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya teaches how a person whose deeds are greater than his wisdom is compared to a tree with very strong roots who can’t be toppled over by even the strongest of winds.
We have a challenge to take the tree metaphor and apply it to our lives in the best of ways. To make sure our roots are strong, that our foundation isn’t flawed, and that we are planting ourselves in the right places to allow for the best spiritual growth we can achieve.
The further we spread our branches and leaves, the harder it becomes to nourish the outer limits of our reach. But if we maintain the connection to our roots and to our source, we can continue to grow, stronger and taller, as the canopy we create becomes a source of nourishment, shade, comfort, and inspiration to ourselves, our families, and those we care about most.
Friday, August 14, 2015
To Sell, or to Give? Increasing Holiness When Unloading 'Neveilah'
Parshat Re'eh
by Rabbi Avi Billet
It is understandable that meat that is forbidden will be given away or sold. But why does the Torah say to give it to the ger toshav, but sell it to the stranger? Why can’t the owner earn a profit no matter where his ‘neveilah’ goes? Why can’t he give it to the stranger? These questions are addressed in the Talmud Chullin (114b), where Rabbi Meir suggests that indeed a person can go either route with either kind of person, giving or selling to whomever one pleases.
And yet the Torah’s language remains specific, and it warrants an explanation. In that Talmudic passage, Rabbi Meir further suggests that the Torah is teaching us a priority. We should be giving the ‘ger’ before we sell to the ‘stranger.’ While Rabbi Yehuda argues saying such an order of priority is obvious, one wonders how obvious it really is. Wouldn’t turning a profit, and the concept of parnasah (earning a living), be more obvious than giving things away - especially when we're not talking about an item that can be given as tzedakah, as a fellow Jew has no need or purpose for this meat?
We do have a mitzvah to ‘love the ger.’ (Devarim 10:19) But there is confusion as to which type of ‘ger’ that sentiment refers to. Is it the colloquial ‘ger’ – one who has become a full Jew? Or does it refer to the ‘ger toshav?’
This is why a different understanding is imperative in helping us understand why the Torah distinguishes between giving and selling, and between the ‘ger toshav’ and the ‘stranger.’ The Alshikh focuses on the Kedusha (holiness) aspect that is drawn out in the verse. What is “kedusha?” Kedusha does not come from any superiority inherent in any individual. All people are the same – they are all descendants of Adam and Noach. What raises a person’s kedusha level is that “I serve God, while the nations of the world serve other gods.”
The same holds true, Alshikh continues, for the neveilah itself. A living cow has the potential to produce Kosher meat, if it is slaughtered properly. But if something happens to it, such as if it dies naturally, its meat is neveilah and forbidden to the kosher consumer.
The same is true for the “stranger.” He too is a descendant of Noach, and therefore a potential contributor to the godliness of the global family of humanity. But something “happened” to him, in that he clings to idolatry, which allows him to partake of neveilah.
But the ‘ger toshav’ is different than the ‘stranger’ because he has rejected idolatry, and should therefore not be eating neveilah. However, since he nonetheless eats neveilah, we are commanded to give it to him for free, because it’s not the idolatry distinction that distinguishes the ‘stranger’ from the ‘ger toshav,’ but the question of kedushah. And His holiness factor, in turn, is what informs whether he can be gifted food prohibited to Jews, or whether he needs to pay for it.
In a sense, we have redefined kedusha, and what it means to be holy. For the Jewish people, our kedusha is enhanced by our closeness to God, and through doing deeds that enhance our connection to God. For people who are not Jewish, it is not mitzvot which contribute to their holiness, but their rejection of that which takes away from God’s holiness with respect to humanity.
It becomes our duty to embrace those that reject any notion of idolatry, or any notion of worship that is distinct from the worship of God. As should we support , in any way we can, anyone who promulgates a Godly existence, in a manner similar to how we embrace our God. And if supporting such efforts with free meat that is forbidden to us is an acceptable form of appreciation to them, the Torah makes it our priority to share such commerce, before we sell it to someone else for a profit.
This is how holiness is spread in the world.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
“Don’t eat ‘neveilah’ (meat from the carcass of an animal that dies a natural death) – give it to the ‘ger’ who lives in your gates, and he shall eat it. Or sell it to the ‘stranger.’ For you are a holy nation to the Lord your God. Don’t cook kid in its mother’s milk.” (Devarim 14:21)The word ‘ger’ in this sentence clearly does not refer to the person who converts to Judaism, because the convert is a Jew who is obligated in all the mitzvot of the Torah. This is why the Midrash Aggadah (quoted by Rashi) identifies the ‘ger’ as a ‘ger toshav,’ one who rejects idolatry, embraces Jewish sovereignty, lives with the Jewish people, but does not join the Jewish people through what we would call conversion. The stranger, notes the Ibn Ezra, does not live with the Jewish people.
It is understandable that meat that is forbidden will be given away or sold. But why does the Torah say to give it to the ger toshav, but sell it to the stranger? Why can’t the owner earn a profit no matter where his ‘neveilah’ goes? Why can’t he give it to the stranger? These questions are addressed in the Talmud Chullin (114b), where Rabbi Meir suggests that indeed a person can go either route with either kind of person, giving or selling to whomever one pleases.
And yet the Torah’s language remains specific, and it warrants an explanation. In that Talmudic passage, Rabbi Meir further suggests that the Torah is teaching us a priority. We should be giving the ‘ger’ before we sell to the ‘stranger.’ While Rabbi Yehuda argues saying such an order of priority is obvious, one wonders how obvious it really is. Wouldn’t turning a profit, and the concept of parnasah (earning a living), be more obvious than giving things away - especially when we're not talking about an item that can be given as tzedakah, as a fellow Jew has no need or purpose for this meat?
We do have a mitzvah to ‘love the ger.’ (Devarim 10:19) But there is confusion as to which type of ‘ger’ that sentiment refers to. Is it the colloquial ‘ger’ – one who has become a full Jew? Or does it refer to the ‘ger toshav?’
This is why a different understanding is imperative in helping us understand why the Torah distinguishes between giving and selling, and between the ‘ger toshav’ and the ‘stranger.’ The Alshikh focuses on the Kedusha (holiness) aspect that is drawn out in the verse. What is “kedusha?” Kedusha does not come from any superiority inherent in any individual. All people are the same – they are all descendants of Adam and Noach. What raises a person’s kedusha level is that “I serve God, while the nations of the world serve other gods.”
The same holds true, Alshikh continues, for the neveilah itself. A living cow has the potential to produce Kosher meat, if it is slaughtered properly. But if something happens to it, such as if it dies naturally, its meat is neveilah and forbidden to the kosher consumer.
The same is true for the “stranger.” He too is a descendant of Noach, and therefore a potential contributor to the godliness of the global family of humanity. But something “happened” to him, in that he clings to idolatry, which allows him to partake of neveilah.
But the ‘ger toshav’ is different than the ‘stranger’ because he has rejected idolatry, and should therefore not be eating neveilah. However, since he nonetheless eats neveilah, we are commanded to give it to him for free, because it’s not the idolatry distinction that distinguishes the ‘stranger’ from the ‘ger toshav,’ but the question of kedushah. And His holiness factor, in turn, is what informs whether he can be gifted food prohibited to Jews, or whether he needs to pay for it.
In a sense, we have redefined kedusha, and what it means to be holy. For the Jewish people, our kedusha is enhanced by our closeness to God, and through doing deeds that enhance our connection to God. For people who are not Jewish, it is not mitzvot which contribute to their holiness, but their rejection of that which takes away from God’s holiness with respect to humanity.
It becomes our duty to embrace those that reject any notion of idolatry, or any notion of worship that is distinct from the worship of God. As should we support , in any way we can, anyone who promulgates a Godly existence, in a manner similar to how we embrace our God. And if supporting such efforts with free meat that is forbidden to us is an acceptable form of appreciation to them, the Torah makes it our priority to share such commerce, before we sell it to someone else for a profit.
This is how holiness is spread in the world.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Unanimous Disapproval of Bad Behavior
Parshat Eikev
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Last week, from Tisha B’Av through Tu B’Av (7/26 – 7/31), was loaded with a particularly bizarre set of circumstances in Israel. From the vandalism on a Conservative (Masorti) synagogue in Modiin on Tisha B’Av, to the inexcusable stabbings at the gay pride parade – which led to a death of Shira Banki as reported on Sunday of this week, to the arson attack on the Dawabsheh family home in Duma last Friday in which an 18-month old toddler died, one wonders what happened to the idea of being a light unto the nations.
Of course, the media is all over these stories, as they should be, for each one, in its own way, is a heinous crime. As of this writing, the perpetrators of the vandalism and the arson had not been caught, and the speculation of both sets of attackers being Jews is circumstantial. But as most are assuming that the perpetrators in both cases are Jewish, let’s go with that assumption for now. The parade-stabber/murderer is clearly Jewish.
In Devarim 8:14, Moshe warns the people of what will happen when “your heart may then grow haughty, and you may forget God your Lord, the One who brought you out of the slave house that was Egypt.”
Ibn Ezra describes this haughtiness as the kind that comes from forgetting your past slave-life, and the suffering and the hunger and thirst you underwent. Presumably because now you have it all, life is good and easy, and you are coasting through a good life.
For more than a generation, the question of whether the Zionist-spirit is dead has been discussed in various mediums. The pioneering spirit to build the country has been replaced by an “it’s been built, now what?” different kind of sense-of-purpose question.
It has been argued that Arabs who engage in terror do so because they don’t have a self-fulfilling sense of purpose. They live in a culture of hate, in which too many people do not work, and therefore have the time to focus on destroying others’ lives instead of focusing on how to improve their own lives. How many people with families and a sense of purpose (a real job) engage in acts of terror? I would imagine the percentages are much lower than the unmarried non-working terrorists.
There is no question that Israel has been on the forefront of the world’s stage in technological innovation in medicine, arms-development, wifi and cellular technology, and hi-tech (computer systems, databases and apps). And so much more. Israel’s field hospitals in disaster and war zones is second to none, and is a model for the world of efficiency, care, and what it means to truly give in terms of resources, time, and manpower. So much good emanates from the tiny Jewish State, which aims to fulfill its purpose of being an accepted, contributing nation among nations.
But then we have a week like last week, and the pundits come out with an all-out criticism of the Jewish state.
As if the criminals represent the Jewish people. Which they don’t. And this point has been made clear with 100 percent condemnation from public leaders and private citizens alike.
Some look at the arson story, for example, responding, “Yeah? You think this is bad? How many Jews have been victims of terror? How many Jewish children have been killed by Arabs?” They don’t mean to justify, but to offer perspective. This is not helpful, however because all it does is try to create a moral superiority of “they have thousands of terrorists, we only have two.” Which is irrelevant.
The only “comparison” to be made is the 100% condemnation of these despicable acts, which is a sign that while the Jewish people apparently have criminals among us, our People are repulsed by individuals who act in a manner that may reflect an arrogance such as the kind the Torah frowns upon. On the other side, the polls that show the percentages of pro-Palestinian folks who say “terrorism is sometimes justified” are almost always in double-digits.
The parade-murderer helps us understand what the Talmud means when it talks about how there was a time in Jewish history when there were many murderers in Israel. There may have been self-appointed vigilantes who felt that they had the right to defend Torah law against those they considered sinners, and they chose to do so in a manner that included murder. The arsonists have a skewed perspective of right and wrong. And they are wrong. And the vandals also have no concept of what it means to respect property, even if they disagree with how Judaism is to be practiced.
Rabbi Morris Joseph wrote in the late 1890s “We thereby affirm, not that we are better than others, but that we ought to be better.” The first step in being “better” (a self-monitored aspiration) is coming to a communal and national sense of purpose, hopefully which comes from the opposite angle of what causes the problem outlined in Devarim 8. Our hearts must never grow haughty, and we must never forget the God who took us out of Egypt.
Because it is only through humility and through a God-oriented sense of purpose that respects all of God’s children that we can attain the status of being a light unto the nations. Most of us are there. We pray that all Jewish people can join the ranks of those who remember what it meant to be slaves, so we can live in peace with those who are looking to live a decent life.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Don't Add, Don't Subtract: Do What You Are Told
The disturbing and inexcusable stories of violence perpetrated by Jews in Israel this week are perfect examples of Chillul Hashem. The perpetrators (stabbing people at a gay-pride parade and arsonists) do not represent Jews who live in a civil society. Both kinds of criminals are guilty of "adding" to what they think is their "Torah." This shameful and despicable behavior is a disgrace to the Jewish people, and must be condemned at every turn.
Parshat Va'Etchanan
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the beginning of the Torah portion, we are given Moshe’s reminder that we are not to add anything to the Torah, nor to detract from it. (4:2) This is the mitzvah of Bal Tosif, not to add, and Bal Tigra, not to take away.
Rashi quotes the Sifrei, saying do not add a 5th paragraph to the tefillin, and do not add a 5th specie to the Lulav bundle, while various Baalei Tosafot (as well as Rashi) mention not to add a fifth corner to tzitzit. Ramban and Rabbenu Bachaye bring another example of saying a fourth sentence when pronouncing the three-sentence Priestly blessing – Birkat Kohanim.
Some commentaries subscribe to the phrase “Kol hamosif go’rea,” that anyone who adds actually detracts from something that is perfect as it is. Think of what adding an ingredient to a chef's masterpiece entree or a baker's prize cake.
Other approaches of how to define Bal Tosif include warnings about the downsides of adding to the Torah – such as Ibn Ezra, who reminds us not to think that adding to the Torah is considered serving God.
But what is considered adding, and what is not?
Explaining Rashi, Rabbi Ovadiah MiBartenura says that fulfilling a mitzvah twice is not Bal Tosif. Though he does not give examples of what that might include, presumably wearing tefillin for double the normal amount of time, saying Shema twice, giving tzedakah a second time, visiting someone who is ill a second time, all of these are not considered a violation.
It is also not a violation of Bal Tosif if a Jew who is not obligated to fulfill a mitzvah nevertheless does so. He brings the example of Michal daughter of King Saul wearing tefillin, the wife of the prophet Yonah going to the Temple for the holidays (the mitzvah of being ‘oleh l’regel’), and that women are allowed, but not required, to put their hands on a korban (offering) when they would bring one.
Ramban questions whether eating in the sukkah 8 days violates Bal Tosif, while the Rosh indicates that since eating an “extra” day in the sukkah does not detract from the mitzvah (it does not fit in the category of ‘kol hamosif go’rea’) it is permissible.
The only adding which is considered allowed because it is not really adding, is what many commentaries refer to as “making a geder” (fence), making rules that help a person fulfill a mitzvah or not violate a mitzvah. The concept of “muktze” for example (not to touch things that are forbidden to be used on the Sabbath) is a fence. For example, If I am not allowed to make a fire, I don’t even touch a match. If I can’t drive a car, I don’t pick up my car keys. Ramban notes that with gedarim (fences), it is important to remember that it is not God’s word, but an effort to help us fulfill God’s word that we are indeed adding to our personal practice, but not to the Torah.
Seforno warns about removing from the Torah. Sometimes a person might rationalize that if the reason for the mitzvah is irrelevant that the mitzvah is irrelevant. King Solomon famously did this when he expanded his number of wives, his number of horses and his wealth far beyond what the Torah allows, saying that it would not steer his heart away from God. Of course, he was wrong. And his removing these mitzvot from his own tally demonstrated perfectly how things can go sour when a person, even as wise as Solomon, thinks he knows better than God.
Other commentaries take lessons from Moshe’s own life, and the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness, to show how he learned the important lesson of not adding and not subtracting from God’s word.
Focusing on Israel’s choices, Chizkuni has Moshe telling the people, “When I said go conquer the land, you added ‘Let’s send spies.’ That caused everyone to die in the wilderness. And when I said ‘Don’t go up,’ you disregarded the instruction and Amalek and Canaan came out to fight.”
Focusing on Moshe’s personal experiences, the Or HaChaim says that Moshe had added to God’s instruction when he hit the rock (Bamidbar 20), and he took away from God’s instruction when he did not act decisively in the face of Zimri’s rebellion, before Pinchas zealously took the law into his own hands (Bamidbar 25). Both of these incidents detracted from Moshe’s leadership role significantly.
Along similar lines, Kli Yakar notes that Moshe’s “adding” at the rock incident, hitting the rock when he was merely told to speak to it, caused a “lessening” of the faith of the people in God.
Sometimes the question of adding or subtracting refers to a specific mitzvah, and sometimes there's a lesson learned from adherence to divine instruction.
Where does this leave us? At a place where we are challenged to know and understand God’s rules as best as we can, and to do what we can to adhere to those rules. Not adding or subtracting can either be understood conceptually or based on experience, and is meant to inform our day-to-day practice. This Friday is the 15th of Av, a time when the Talmud at the end of Taanit says is one of the happiest days on the Jewish calendar. One of the reasons the Talmud gives for this is because in the times of the Temple, the people were freed up from collecting wood for the altar, and therefore had more time to study Torah.
May we utilize as much of our free time as possible to study more Torah, so we can be as knowledgeable as we can in what to do, what not to do, and how we can best fulfill our responsibilities as Jews without adding to or detracting from the Torah.
Parshat Va'Etchanan
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Towards the beginning of the Torah portion, we are given Moshe’s reminder that we are not to add anything to the Torah, nor to detract from it. (4:2) This is the mitzvah of Bal Tosif, not to add, and Bal Tigra, not to take away.
Rashi quotes the Sifrei, saying do not add a 5th paragraph to the tefillin, and do not add a 5th specie to the Lulav bundle, while various Baalei Tosafot (as well as Rashi) mention not to add a fifth corner to tzitzit. Ramban and Rabbenu Bachaye bring another example of saying a fourth sentence when pronouncing the three-sentence Priestly blessing – Birkat Kohanim.
Some commentaries subscribe to the phrase “Kol hamosif go’rea,” that anyone who adds actually detracts from something that is perfect as it is. Think of what adding an ingredient to a chef's masterpiece entree or a baker's prize cake.
Other approaches of how to define Bal Tosif include warnings about the downsides of adding to the Torah – such as Ibn Ezra, who reminds us not to think that adding to the Torah is considered serving God.
But what is considered adding, and what is not?
Explaining Rashi, Rabbi Ovadiah MiBartenura says that fulfilling a mitzvah twice is not Bal Tosif. Though he does not give examples of what that might include, presumably wearing tefillin for double the normal amount of time, saying Shema twice, giving tzedakah a second time, visiting someone who is ill a second time, all of these are not considered a violation.
It is also not a violation of Bal Tosif if a Jew who is not obligated to fulfill a mitzvah nevertheless does so. He brings the example of Michal daughter of King Saul wearing tefillin, the wife of the prophet Yonah going to the Temple for the holidays (the mitzvah of being ‘oleh l’regel’), and that women are allowed, but not required, to put their hands on a korban (offering) when they would bring one.
Ramban questions whether eating in the sukkah 8 days violates Bal Tosif, while the Rosh indicates that since eating an “extra” day in the sukkah does not detract from the mitzvah (it does not fit in the category of ‘kol hamosif go’rea’) it is permissible.
The only adding which is considered allowed because it is not really adding, is what many commentaries refer to as “making a geder” (fence), making rules that help a person fulfill a mitzvah or not violate a mitzvah. The concept of “muktze” for example (not to touch things that are forbidden to be used on the Sabbath) is a fence. For example, If I am not allowed to make a fire, I don’t even touch a match. If I can’t drive a car, I don’t pick up my car keys. Ramban notes that with gedarim (fences), it is important to remember that it is not God’s word, but an effort to help us fulfill God’s word that we are indeed adding to our personal practice, but not to the Torah.
Seforno warns about removing from the Torah. Sometimes a person might rationalize that if the reason for the mitzvah is irrelevant that the mitzvah is irrelevant. King Solomon famously did this when he expanded his number of wives, his number of horses and his wealth far beyond what the Torah allows, saying that it would not steer his heart away from God. Of course, he was wrong. And his removing these mitzvot from his own tally demonstrated perfectly how things can go sour when a person, even as wise as Solomon, thinks he knows better than God.
Other commentaries take lessons from Moshe’s own life, and the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness, to show how he learned the important lesson of not adding and not subtracting from God’s word.
Focusing on Israel’s choices, Chizkuni has Moshe telling the people, “When I said go conquer the land, you added ‘Let’s send spies.’ That caused everyone to die in the wilderness. And when I said ‘Don’t go up,’ you disregarded the instruction and Amalek and Canaan came out to fight.”
Focusing on Moshe’s personal experiences, the Or HaChaim says that Moshe had added to God’s instruction when he hit the rock (Bamidbar 20), and he took away from God’s instruction when he did not act decisively in the face of Zimri’s rebellion, before Pinchas zealously took the law into his own hands (Bamidbar 25). Both of these incidents detracted from Moshe’s leadership role significantly.
Along similar lines, Kli Yakar notes that Moshe’s “adding” at the rock incident, hitting the rock when he was merely told to speak to it, caused a “lessening” of the faith of the people in God.
Sometimes the question of adding or subtracting refers to a specific mitzvah, and sometimes there's a lesson learned from adherence to divine instruction.
Where does this leave us? At a place where we are challenged to know and understand God’s rules as best as we can, and to do what we can to adhere to those rules. Not adding or subtracting can either be understood conceptually or based on experience, and is meant to inform our day-to-day practice. This Friday is the 15th of Av, a time when the Talmud at the end of Taanit says is one of the happiest days on the Jewish calendar. One of the reasons the Talmud gives for this is because in the times of the Temple, the people were freed up from collecting wood for the altar, and therefore had more time to study Torah.
May we utilize as much of our free time as possible to study more Torah, so we can be as knowledgeable as we can in what to do, what not to do, and how we can best fulfill our responsibilities as Jews without adding to or detracting from the Torah.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Looking To the Past And the Future
Parshat Devarim
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When the Levush records the “halakha” from Shulchan Arukh 428 about when certain Torah portions are read during the year, he explains the rule that Tisha B’Av precedes Va’Etchanan as follows: “So that Devarim, which begins the rebukes of Moshe, will be read before Tisha B’Av.”
It certainly would have been easier for us to understand if the Shulchan Arukh had done two things differently: 1. Like for Bamidbar and Nitzavim, which precede Shavuot and Rosh Hashana respectively, he had explained that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av. For some reason, he switched it around saying “Tisha B’Av preceded Va’Etchanan. 2. A small explanation for each, such as a thematic connection, would have gone a long way.
For Bamidbar and Nitzavim, the purpose of their standing as a buffer between the Rebuke of the previous parsha, Bechukotai and Ki Tavo respectively, and the coming holiday, is made clear. So if Devarim contains a rebuke, shouldn’t it also have a buffer between it and Tisha B’Av? We even read from Parshat Va’Etchanan ON Tisha B’Av! Wouldn’t it make sense to have Va’Etchanan be a reading of the past once Tisha B’Av is over, if the rebuke of Va’Etchanan is powerful enough to be the Tisha B’Av Torah reading?
We can argue that no buffer will help Tisha B’Av. It is a miserable day. It may as well be attached to rebuke. And, of course, we know that it is. But why not just say that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av, since it does, even more consistently than Bamidbar precedes Shavuot?
Parshat Devarim contains within it Moshe’s reference to the sin of the spies. The Talmud (Taanit 29a) tells us that the date when the spies returned with their report was the Ninth of Av. The negativity of that episode, and the devastation it wrought upon the nation was so horrific, bringing it up in any context seems to be an example of pouring salt in very sore wounds.
We can not say that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av, because we know all too well that what Moshe recounted in Devarim not only preceded the original Tisha B’Av, but caused the original Tisha B’Av! The rebuke within Va’Etchanan, the portion we read on Tisha B’Av, speaks more to the future than to the past. It is a reminder of how to raise children and grandchildren, and what precautions to take to get things right.
Moreover, unlike in Devarim, where the rebuke focuses on the past, Parshat Va’Etchanan begins with Moshe looking to future in his own personal life as well. And this may be the lesson of how all of this is recorded in the Shulchan Arukh.
When it comes to Tisha B’av, like Devarim, we tend to lament over the past, and find all the flaws and hardships our People have endured. We may even point fingers and say why it happened, and who was at fault, and what the repercussions were and remain for our nation, even after so many years.
But that does not help us emerge from Tisha B’Av. Unlike Shavuot and Rosh Hashana when we hope to achieve the highest heights of spirituality and connection with our Creator, on Tisha B’Av, we want to be able to get out of our despair and look to a better future. Va’Etchanan begins with Moshe pleading to God to let him into the Land. Even though he’s been told he won’t be allowed in. He still hopes that he can get in there, or even to just be buried there.
And this is how we have to view this time period. For those who get into Tisha B’Av, who don’t go to work, who read the Kinot, who listen to stirring words delivered by fascinating lecturers, Tisha B’Av is more than just a depressing fast day. It is a porthole to many places in time in which the Jewish people suffered, and it is a reminder that as good as things are in comparison to the past, there is still no Temple in Jerusalem, there is still terrorism aimed at Jews around the world, and especially in Israel, and nowadays we can tack on the threat of Iran and its nuclear ambitions coupled with a naivette that these dishonest fanatics can be negotiated with and trusted, and it remains depressing.
But we have something to look forward to. Because like Moshe, we can remain optimistic. We can understand the significance of Tisha B’Av preceding Va’Etchanan. Because sometimes we need to go to the deepest depths of despair to understand what our collective challenges are, and we need to tack on to that incredible sense of optimism of Moshe, that even with everything that is going on, we believe there is a bright future ahead.
Our job is to stand strong. To get through Tisha B’Av and be excited for the future. We must remain cautious, as Moshe was about his prospects for getting in to the Land, while we continue to pray and do our part hoping that God will do what is best and right for our People.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When the Levush records the “halakha” from Shulchan Arukh 428 about when certain Torah portions are read during the year, he explains the rule that Tisha B’Av precedes Va’Etchanan as follows: “So that Devarim, which begins the rebukes of Moshe, will be read before Tisha B’Av.”
It certainly would have been easier for us to understand if the Shulchan Arukh had done two things differently: 1. Like for Bamidbar and Nitzavim, which precede Shavuot and Rosh Hashana respectively, he had explained that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av. For some reason, he switched it around saying “Tisha B’Av preceded Va’Etchanan. 2. A small explanation for each, such as a thematic connection, would have gone a long way.
For Bamidbar and Nitzavim, the purpose of their standing as a buffer between the Rebuke of the previous parsha, Bechukotai and Ki Tavo respectively, and the coming holiday, is made clear. So if Devarim contains a rebuke, shouldn’t it also have a buffer between it and Tisha B’Av? We even read from Parshat Va’Etchanan ON Tisha B’Av! Wouldn’t it make sense to have Va’Etchanan be a reading of the past once Tisha B’Av is over, if the rebuke of Va’Etchanan is powerful enough to be the Tisha B’Av Torah reading?
We can argue that no buffer will help Tisha B’Av. It is a miserable day. It may as well be attached to rebuke. And, of course, we know that it is. But why not just say that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av, since it does, even more consistently than Bamidbar precedes Shavuot?
Parshat Devarim contains within it Moshe’s reference to the sin of the spies. The Talmud (Taanit 29a) tells us that the date when the spies returned with their report was the Ninth of Av. The negativity of that episode, and the devastation it wrought upon the nation was so horrific, bringing it up in any context seems to be an example of pouring salt in very sore wounds.
We can not say that Devarim precedes Tisha B’Av, because we know all too well that what Moshe recounted in Devarim not only preceded the original Tisha B’Av, but caused the original Tisha B’Av! The rebuke within Va’Etchanan, the portion we read on Tisha B’Av, speaks more to the future than to the past. It is a reminder of how to raise children and grandchildren, and what precautions to take to get things right.
Moreover, unlike in Devarim, where the rebuke focuses on the past, Parshat Va’Etchanan begins with Moshe looking to future in his own personal life as well. And this may be the lesson of how all of this is recorded in the Shulchan Arukh.
When it comes to Tisha B’av, like Devarim, we tend to lament over the past, and find all the flaws and hardships our People have endured. We may even point fingers and say why it happened, and who was at fault, and what the repercussions were and remain for our nation, even after so many years.
But that does not help us emerge from Tisha B’Av. Unlike Shavuot and Rosh Hashana when we hope to achieve the highest heights of spirituality and connection with our Creator, on Tisha B’Av, we want to be able to get out of our despair and look to a better future. Va’Etchanan begins with Moshe pleading to God to let him into the Land. Even though he’s been told he won’t be allowed in. He still hopes that he can get in there, or even to just be buried there.
And this is how we have to view this time period. For those who get into Tisha B’Av, who don’t go to work, who read the Kinot, who listen to stirring words delivered by fascinating lecturers, Tisha B’Av is more than just a depressing fast day. It is a porthole to many places in time in which the Jewish people suffered, and it is a reminder that as good as things are in comparison to the past, there is still no Temple in Jerusalem, there is still terrorism aimed at Jews around the world, and especially in Israel, and nowadays we can tack on the threat of Iran and its nuclear ambitions coupled with a naivette that these dishonest fanatics can be negotiated with and trusted, and it remains depressing.
But we have something to look forward to. Because like Moshe, we can remain optimistic. We can understand the significance of Tisha B’Av preceding Va’Etchanan. Because sometimes we need to go to the deepest depths of despair to understand what our collective challenges are, and we need to tack on to that incredible sense of optimism of Moshe, that even with everything that is going on, we believe there is a bright future ahead.
Our job is to stand strong. To get through Tisha B’Av and be excited for the future. We must remain cautious, as Moshe was about his prospects for getting in to the Land, while we continue to pray and do our part hoping that God will do what is best and right for our People.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Respectful Objections - Choosing Our Words Carefully
Parshat MATOT-Masei
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Ever since the blessing given to the Tribe of Gad by Yaakov in the middle of Parshat Vaychi, Gad has been considered to be the greatest soldier, and set of soldiers, known to Israel.
So well known is this fact, that every image for Gad that I have ever seen in artwork depicting the tribes always has Gad represented as field-tents or soldiers. No other tribe shares such a distinction.
When the tribes of Reuven and Gad, who traveled together (along with the recently-devastated tribe of Shimon) in the wilderness come to Moshe in Chapter 32 asking to settle in the land conquered from Sichon and Og, their request does not seem that odd. If, after all, they had led the troops in battle against those enemies, they may have been the first to observe and take note of the topography, to determine this land would mean a great economic boom for their tribes.
They list the particular lands and cities they want, explaining that they want to put roots here for “[in] the land that God struck down before the Israelite community is livestock land - and what we have is livestock.'” (32:4)
This is not crazy. They see an opportunity, so they want to capitalize on it. They know it is very close to the Promised Land. And yet, they say, “If you would grant us a favor, let this land be given to us as our permanent property, and do not bring us across the Jordan.” (32:5)
There are different ways to understand their request. Are they saying they don’t want to go across the Jordan at all? Or are they saying they don’t want to shlep their families along? Do they make any mention of what role they intend to play or not play on the coming battlefield? Do they indicate any scorn for the Promised Land? As a matter of fact, these questions are not addressed at all.
Instead, Moshe goes on a 10-verse tirade about how they’re committing the same sin as the spies and the people of that generation who revolted against the Land. Arguably the only legitimate response Moshe has is a fair concern: “Moses said to the descendants of Gad and Reuven, 'Why should your brothers go out and fight while you stay here?’” (32:6)
We can skip to their response in 32:16-19 when they completely ignore all of Moshe’s comments, responding only to the one about serving at the battlefront. “[The Reubenites and Gaddites] approached [Moses] and said, 'We will build enclosures for our sheep here and cities for our children. But we will then arm ourselves and go as an advance guard before the [other] Israelites, [fighting] until we have brought them to their homeland. Because of the area's inhabitants, our children will remain in fortified cities, but we ourselves will not return home until every Israelite has taken possession of his hereditary property. We, however, will not take possession with them on the far side of the Jordan, since our inheritance shall come to us on the Jordan's eastern bank.'”
In other words: “You are right, Moshe. We do not intend to leave our brothers to fight their battles alone. We will be there as well. But we don’t want our families and animals to be waiting in limbo for however long these battles will take. As far as all your concerns of our hate for the Land, on par with those of the spies, we will not even dignify them with a response.”
Was Moshe right or wrong here? Did he discern something that was there, or something that wasn’t there? Were the Reuvenites and Gadites only selfish, or were they practical? Did they denigrate the Land? Were they looking to abandon the rest of the Israelite nation? Or were they always intending to join for the battles, and perhaps they merely neglected to mention such plans?
Perhaps we’ll never know the answers to these questions.
But I wonder how things would have turned out if Moshe had ended his response in 32:6 – asking about their plans to participate in battles – rather than waxing poetic about their hatred-of-the-land on par with that of the spies’?
I like to think the message would have come across, and their clarification, very much to the point, would have also been brief and concise.
This is a flaw we have when we judge people based on either preconceived notions, or if we apply our own experiences to a similar but different circumstance in which we are currently involved.
“I know the score. This happens all the time.” “Every time I’ve seen this, it always ends out the same.” “Anyone who has ever done this has been untrustworthy, or has given up before completing the job. You’ll be no different.”
How do we know? How can we judge people without hearing them out, or without giving them a chance? Just because others have been one way, or have failed, does not mean everyone will. And from another perspective, just because someone has been successful in the past does not mean the person will be the God-send being sought.
Open communication, clarification, and giving people a chance are some of the ingredients that make the thrill of life more navigable for all. Will things be perfect, always? No. And anyone who thinks it will be is at best naïve.
But our life is one lived with others, and we have to do our best to include others, share concerns for ourselves and for others, and do what we can to help others through their struggles, as we hope they will help us through ours’.
And if we can be blessed to not be so judgmental, and not to project our own insecurities on others, maybe we’ll never have to be the people who are the recipients of “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response” because we will have selected our words carefully in the first place.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Ever since the blessing given to the Tribe of Gad by Yaakov in the middle of Parshat Vaychi, Gad has been considered to be the greatest soldier, and set of soldiers, known to Israel.
So well known is this fact, that every image for Gad that I have ever seen in artwork depicting the tribes always has Gad represented as field-tents or soldiers. No other tribe shares such a distinction.
When the tribes of Reuven and Gad, who traveled together (along with the recently-devastated tribe of Shimon) in the wilderness come to Moshe in Chapter 32 asking to settle in the land conquered from Sichon and Og, their request does not seem that odd. If, after all, they had led the troops in battle against those enemies, they may have been the first to observe and take note of the topography, to determine this land would mean a great economic boom for their tribes.
They list the particular lands and cities they want, explaining that they want to put roots here for “[in] the land that God struck down before the Israelite community is livestock land - and what we have is livestock.'” (32:4)
This is not crazy. They see an opportunity, so they want to capitalize on it. They know it is very close to the Promised Land. And yet, they say, “If you would grant us a favor, let this land be given to us as our permanent property, and do not bring us across the Jordan.” (32:5)
There are different ways to understand their request. Are they saying they don’t want to go across the Jordan at all? Or are they saying they don’t want to shlep their families along? Do they make any mention of what role they intend to play or not play on the coming battlefield? Do they indicate any scorn for the Promised Land? As a matter of fact, these questions are not addressed at all.
Instead, Moshe goes on a 10-verse tirade about how they’re committing the same sin as the spies and the people of that generation who revolted against the Land. Arguably the only legitimate response Moshe has is a fair concern: “Moses said to the descendants of Gad and Reuven, 'Why should your brothers go out and fight while you stay here?’” (32:6)
We can skip to their response in 32:16-19 when they completely ignore all of Moshe’s comments, responding only to the one about serving at the battlefront. “[The Reubenites and Gaddites] approached [Moses] and said, 'We will build enclosures for our sheep here and cities for our children. But we will then arm ourselves and go as an advance guard before the [other] Israelites, [fighting] until we have brought them to their homeland. Because of the area's inhabitants, our children will remain in fortified cities, but we ourselves will not return home until every Israelite has taken possession of his hereditary property. We, however, will not take possession with them on the far side of the Jordan, since our inheritance shall come to us on the Jordan's eastern bank.'”
In other words: “You are right, Moshe. We do not intend to leave our brothers to fight their battles alone. We will be there as well. But we don’t want our families and animals to be waiting in limbo for however long these battles will take. As far as all your concerns of our hate for the Land, on par with those of the spies, we will not even dignify them with a response.”
Was Moshe right or wrong here? Did he discern something that was there, or something that wasn’t there? Were the Reuvenites and Gadites only selfish, or were they practical? Did they denigrate the Land? Were they looking to abandon the rest of the Israelite nation? Or were they always intending to join for the battles, and perhaps they merely neglected to mention such plans?
Perhaps we’ll never know the answers to these questions.
But I wonder how things would have turned out if Moshe had ended his response in 32:6 – asking about their plans to participate in battles – rather than waxing poetic about their hatred-of-the-land on par with that of the spies’?
I like to think the message would have come across, and their clarification, very much to the point, would have also been brief and concise.
This is a flaw we have when we judge people based on either preconceived notions, or if we apply our own experiences to a similar but different circumstance in which we are currently involved.
“I know the score. This happens all the time.” “Every time I’ve seen this, it always ends out the same.” “Anyone who has ever done this has been untrustworthy, or has given up before completing the job. You’ll be no different.”
How do we know? How can we judge people without hearing them out, or without giving them a chance? Just because others have been one way, or have failed, does not mean everyone will. And from another perspective, just because someone has been successful in the past does not mean the person will be the God-send being sought.
Open communication, clarification, and giving people a chance are some of the ingredients that make the thrill of life more navigable for all. Will things be perfect, always? No. And anyone who thinks it will be is at best naïve.
But our life is one lived with others, and we have to do our best to include others, share concerns for ourselves and for others, and do what we can to help others through their struggles, as we hope they will help us through ours’.
And if we can be blessed to not be so judgmental, and not to project our own insecurities on others, maybe we’ll never have to be the people who are the recipients of “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response” because we will have selected our words carefully in the first place.
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